


Young Love

by ViviBaby69420



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fluff, Illustrated, M/M, Original Character(s), South Park: The Stick of Truth, Stick of Truth AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViviBaby69420/pseuds/ViviBaby69420
Summary: When Stan finds this mysterious boy in his hideout in the forest, what is he going to do?(Characters are minors, so no illegal things happening here!)(Each chapter will be illustrated)/Under reconstruction\
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 35
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stan was running through the forest, snickering to himself.
> 
> He was playing hide-and-seek with his fellow pages and he was sure that, this time, he had found the best place to hide!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for a precision before reading:  
> -Our boy Stan here is a 'page', so in the first stage of knighthood training (second stage is squire, then knight). He is 12 and so is Kyle (although he looks younger in the drawing, but hey elves are youthful amiright) (I drew him a bit too young and I'm too lazy to change it sorry)  
> -A valet is a 'gentleman's gentleman' or a gentleman's male servant, and "performs personal services such as maintaining his employer's clothes, running his bath and ( ... ) was also responsible for making travel arrangements, dealing with any bills and handling all money matters concerning his master or his master's household." (thanks wikipedia)

Stan was running through the forest, snickering to himself.

He was playing hide-and-seek with his fellow pages and he was sure that, this time, he had found the best place to hide!

Elves may be more in touch with nature than him, or have a better sense of hearing than him, or even can use tracking magic, but this time around he was sure he would win. Plus they swore they wouldn't use magic today, so his chances at not getting caught were even greater. He giggled, picturing the disappointed faces they would display once they discover they had lost, and ran even quicker through the forest—swiftly avoiding the FeFe flowers (the dust fairies left there can sometime bewitch and keep you trapped forever!) or the ferocious brambles, coming to life when disturbed. He knew to see this kind of plant meant he was going too far in the forest, deeper than allowed for someone his age, but he knew he could win there at least. Not like it was his first time here either.

After some time he finally arrived near the place he had spotted a few days ago: like before, the thick and dark trees started to clear out and he entered a beautiful clearing, covered by the lushest grass and flowers he had never seen (even in the castle's gardens!) and somewhat always illuminated by the warm rays of the sun. Stan jumped in joy, grinning from ear to ear when he finally stepped onto the magical place; but his smile soon was replaced by a frown of confusion.

  
On the other side of the clearing, where was normally only a big, dead trunk, sat a boy.

  
It was a young boy his age, looking at him with a surprised look painted on his face; his ears as pointed as knives clearly stated his elven origins, and as any elf can be, he was as pretty as the day. He had fluffy, flaming red curls that had trouble staying styled and proper on his head, some faint, lovely freckles sprinkled across his dainty nose, and vibrant green eyes sparkling more vividly than any green gem Stan knew.  
  


  
  
  
Said green eyes were staring at him with growing bewilderment though, their owner frozen in place like a frightened deer. Stan immediately put his hands in front of him as a sign of peace.

"Ah sorry to disturb you, I'm just passing by!" Stan was just as surprised to see someone in his super hideout. Damn it! "I'm just going to hide here for a little while!"

He regretted these last words, as they seemed to scare the boy even more.

"Hide here! What are you, a fugitive?!" the boy immediately asked with an imperious tone. Stan could see he was putting on a brave facade to try and talk to him. He scoffed.

" _Me_ , a fugitive? Nah man, just hiding from some friends. You know, hide-and-seek?"

The elf stayed as confused as before. The boy with jet black hair wondered, thinking out loud: "Well, it is a human game after all... Maybe you don't know it yet? You can play with us next round if you want!"

The redhead's face began to crumble. "Are more people going to come here...?"

"No no, don't worry!" Stan exclaimed. "This place is a great place to hide, so I'm sure they will never come here," he stated proudly. He didn't understand why the boy was so scared at the idea of other people coming in, but he wasn't going to test why. He didn't want to needlessly frighten him; he did seem pretty fragile after all, be it his small frame or unnaturally chalk-white skin.

The elf appeared at least somewhat reassured by this statement.  
  


"So who are you exactly?" he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "I can see you are human. Yet here you are in the Elven Kingdom and even speaking Elvish. Well, Low Elvish, but that's already rare for your kind."

Stan frowned. What was up with this boy's tone? Who did he think he was to speak to him like this?

"I am but _soo_ sorry to disturb you, your Highness," he replied sarcastically, switching to High Elvish to match the boy's register. It was not easy to speak at all, but he sure wasn't going to let another snotty elf look down on him. "I am only but a lowly human. Please pardon my awful manners!"

He curtsied in front of him in an overly exaggerated manner like he had seen these stuck-up elves nobles do so many times between each other. When he looked up, he saw the elf's cheeks were now matching his hair.

"I am so sorry!" he exclaimed. He hastily avoided his eyes, visibly embarrassed. "What a show I have made of myself! Are you, perhaps, a human noble's son?"

Stan stared at him, truly stunned by these words. _Him_ , a noble? He began to chuckle before laughing wholeheartedly.

"You think _I_ am a noble?" He laughed more. If anything, he was considered pretty low-class here. "Not at all! I can't breathe, it's the greatest joke I've ever heard!!"

The elf got frustrated by this response.

"Well, you don't need to mock me even more," he said with a pout. "If you take it this way I'm leaving."

He started to rise from his seat when Stan stopped him with a hand.

"Wait, wait!" he said, still laughing, "Don't worry! It's just that never has someone here taken me for a noble's son before. I'm more flattered than anything."

The red-head only cocked his head, and Stan could easily read on his puzzled—and slightly annoyed by the situation—face the speculation going on inside.

"I am a common human, no question here," he said as he sat without asking right next to the elf—which made said elf frown at him. "I was given to the Elves seven years ago as a gift a reconciliation. You know, for Humans to show they're not willing to fight Elves anymore, yadda yadda."

Realization suddenly lit up the redhead's whole face.

"Ah! _You_!"

"Yeah, _me_ ," the human replied, jaded. He didn't like how conceited this _you_ sounded. Maybe it was only his imagination, but the other boy seemed to be used to dictating others around. "Stanley Marshwalker, at your service."

"I heard of you a few years ago indeed. You were given to become a knight for the royal family, correct?"

Stan nodded. "And you are?"

The elf blinked for a few seconds. "Oh. Do you mean you didn't..? But you said..." He looked genuinely surprised Stan didn't know who he was. The human quirked an eyebrow.

"I didn't what?" He left the question hanging in the air, but the other boy left it there. Stan repeated with a skeptical tone: "I'm Stanley Marshwalker, but friends call me Stan. And you are..?"

"Oh..." The other boy blinked some more and slowly spoke again—stumbling as he appeared to search for his words."Well, I am... I am a servant."

"A servant? You sure are cocky and well-kept for a servant," Stan chuckled. One look to these clothes, and anybody could tell they were not ones of a servant. The ginger scoffed.

"Well, I'm not some low-level servant!" he exclaimed before clearing his throat. "I'm... training to be a valet, you know. So I must possess a certain level of prestance."

"A valet?" Stan mused. "If you find a good master, you're pretty much guaranteed good meals and a roof over your head for life. You're lucky, that's some good position," he said enthusiastically to engage the conversation. But in return, the elf only silently agreed, leaving an awkward blank between them.

Ticked off by the rather strange behavior of this boy, Stan was about to ask for his name when his newfound companion started to cough.

A simple cough is nothing to worry about. But the human boy quickly realized it was no normal cough: in an instant the redhead next to him was painfully clenching his sides, coughing uncontrollably as his body shook at each new wave of strangled sickness. Stan jumped to his feet, his senses fully alert.

"Eh, are you okay?!"

"Sick... I'm—" he choked on his words, gasping, "I'm just a bit sick—!"

The boy indeed looked terrible, and the bags under his eyes were certainly not normal. Stan looked around with a panicked look.

"Can I do something for you? Do you live nearby maybe??"

"No!" the elf cried, and he suddenly gripped on Stan's arm. "It is the first time in weeks I got to go out! Don't make me—" - **cough-** " —leave so soon!"

"But dude, look at yourself!! You look like you're going to pass out at any moment now!"

"Doesn't matter!" the ginger cringed, "It will soon go away, so please—" his grip on Stan's arm grew tighter, and he looked at him with wet, desperate eyes: "—just stay with me for the time being!"

  
Stan shuffled on his feet, uncomfortable. Should he listen to this ridiculous wish when the elf clearly wasn't well?

Yet he sat back down next to him and started to pat his back as he spat his lungs out. If it became too bad, he'll search for help, he decided.

  
  
They spent the next ten minutes in a strange silence, filled with sick noises and worried glances. After a while, though, what the ginger said became reality: little by little, he stopped coughing and only sat there, sluggishly slouching while wheezing each exhalation. Stan was rubbing circles on his back the whole time and weirdly enough, physical contact from him didn't seem to bother the elf anymore; he even seemed to appreciate it for the time being, leaning his exhausted body into the touch.

"I'm sorry," the redhead murmured.

"Why? Not your fault you're sick," Stan replied in a soft tone.

"It has always been like that..." he muttered under his breath. "I am a failure. Always too sick to do anything..."

"Dude, relax." Stan gently squeezed his shoulder.

"You're training to be a valet, right? Nobody would agree to train you if you didn't have the potential. That means you're not worthless, and not a failure."

The elf looked at him with a surprised look, his green orbs seemingly searching for sarcasm in his eyes. After a while, though, he averted his eyes and a bit of embarrased red colored his cheeks.

"I guess you are right..."

"Of course I'm right," he grinned, and together they stayed in a more comfortable silence than before, the elf's breathing slowly calming down.

Stan suddenly stood up before lying down on the ground.

"What are you doing?" the elf enquired with a hoarse voice. "It is highly unhygienic to go there."

"Maybe," Stan shrugged. "But it sure feels nice. We're in a really nice place, so why not make the most out of it?"

He comfortably positionned himself on the ground and sighed with contentment. What was better than some cushy grass tickling your face while the sun slowly warmed up your skin?

He didn't have to wait too long before the other boy tentatively came down by his side. Even with his eyes closed the ravenet could feel him being tense.

"Relax. Try it, you'll see."

The grass beside him shifted and a new warmth spread next to him. He lazily opened one eye, and he could see the elf trying to get used to the 'unhygienic' place, moving and shuffling around in an attempt to find a good position.  
He was still very pale, but a bit of life had come back to his face at least.

"You didn't give me a full answer earlier."

"What do you mean?"

"Your name," Stan chuckled. "I still don't know it."

The next minutes were silent, but when Stan was about to repeat his question he heard the redhead answer:

"...Kyley."

"Kyley?" The elf nodded. "Pretty name for a pretty boy, huh." He saw how that made Kyley scowl and blush, and he snickered. The elf nudged his side with annoyance.  
  


The rustling of the leaves above their heads, the humming of the wind that caressed their skins, the low whistling of the wild herbs around them, the soft breathing of each other; maybe Kyley, being an elf, could even perceive magical things Stan would never hope to hear. All of this gradually brought Stan to the shores of consciousness, and before his mind completely drifted to sleep, he swore he heard a satisfied sigh next to him.  


* * *

  
  
When he woke up, night had already fallen.  
  
"SHIT!"  
  
He scrambled to his feet, still half knocked-out by his impromptu nap. He looked around and saw he was alone in the clearing.  
He scratched his head; he was a bit disappointed to have not been able to say goodbye to Kyley at least. Oh well.  
Maybe he will find the arrogant, sickly valet next time he goes into the forest.  
  
Later in the evening, after he got scolded by his captain for being late and got punished into doing all the boys' chores for one week and after he had finished doing all the dishes and mopping the floor of the entire pages's quarter, he was happy to find, written elegantly in High Elvish on a little piece of paper in his pocket: " _Thank you_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe did you sense it while reading the chapter, but English is not my first language. I've tried my best but if there are grammatical errors don't hesitate to tell me, I'd love that! (if someone would like to be a beta I'm here lol)  
> I hope you enjoyed the story so far, and constructive criticism is of course welcomed（*´▽｀*）  
> 
> 
> N.B: Wherever or whoever you are, I hope you are all okay at home. Be safe <3


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The more he saw the place empty though, the more his heart grew cold. He thought deeply about it, and with sadness, he concluded that in the end it was probably only a fantasy to hope to see Kyley again."

Stan went back to the clearing several times after his encounter with the red-haired elf.

First nonchalantly, only going from time to time to see if Kyley was back, then leaving if he wasn't. But soon after he began to grow restless: weeks after weeks, every day, he went with the little hope of seeing him again.  
He wanted to talk more to him. To know why he was sick so often, what it was like to be a valet in training. To know why he had the hunch the elf was more than what he wanted to tell.  
After all, the thought of meeting the mysterious boy again and the new possibilities it brought were exciting. He was something new in his life, and although he appeared to be quite weird and conceited, it was still more enticing than being confronted every day to his sometimes dreary life as a page.   
  
The more he saw the place empty though, the more his heart grew cold. He thought deeply about it, and with sadness, he concluded that in the end it was probably only a fantasy to hope to see Kyley again.

Maybe he was already gone and wouldn't return. Maybe he didn't even want to meet Stan again.

They just shared a moment together, a second in a lifetime; so why would it even matter in the end?

In the end, wasn't he using the thought of him only to escape his daily life? After reflection: probably, and it felt dishonest to keep pursuing this quest if that was the case.  
But deep down in his heart, he knew it wasn't just that. There was genuine hope hidden under the layers of hesitation and disappointment, and it was making his heart unexpectedly throb with excitement.  
But being met with nothing each time he went to the clearing, he decided today was going to be the last time he went back to look for the elf. Before it needlessly started to hurt too much.

  
  
Already prepared to be disappointed, he simply couldn't believe his eyes when he saw, set ablaze by the sun, the red curls he had grown to daydream about. He blinked, hoping it would erase the illusion his mind had surely created to fill the void, but _he_ was still there: sitting all straight on the dead trunk like he had to sit on a throne, green eyes lost into space, pure white skin shining with each speck of light caressing it.  
  
He stopped in his tracks. "Kyley?"

The other boy slowly turned his head to him. A surprised look appeared on his face.

"Stanley?"

Stan felt a smile growing uncontrollably on his lips, and feeling all light he ran up to him.

"Kyley!" he exclaimed, almost still not believing it, "You're back!"

The redhead stared at him like he couldn't understand why Stan would be so thrilled about seeing him.

"I am," he replied slowly.

"You are!"

In his excitement he was ready to give him a big ol' hug, the biggest hug he could muster, but since they didn't even really know each other Kyley would probably be disgusted by that much contact. He retracted his arms and instead just grinned like an idiot.

"Why are you smiling so much? Are you okay?" the ginger asked with a disapproving frown Stan was getting familiar with.

"I'm just very happy!"

He indeed was happy: waves of excitement, happiness, relief... were washing over him as he was finally able to meet again the boy he waited for so long. But soon his smile dropped into a concerned expression.

"Why weren't you there?" He grimaced. "I mean, of course you didn't have to come back, but... I was just worried you were very sick again..."

Kyley scratched his head, a bit embarrassed.

"Well... Actually, I was..." The ravenet gasped.

"For six weeks?!"

"Yes..." the redhead answered nervously. He offered a small apologetic smile to the page. "But at least I am better, now."

Stan pouted, before returning the elf's smile with a soft grin.

"Well, better than nothing."

  
  
They shared a look, a long look Stan did not really understand but didn't dislike either. He could feel that Kyley was silently evaluating him, staring deep into his eyes as if he could pierce his soul and intentions if he stared long enough (and Stan honestly felt he was succeeding). He was the first one to break off their staring contest though, feeling his cheeks beginning to heat up by the strange intensity of it.

"Soo, hum... what do you wanna do since you're here?" Kyley cocked his head quizzically. "You know, like do you want to play a game?"

The elf looked down, flustered.

"I don't know any games..." he mumbled.

Stan pondered for a while, before exclaiming :

"Hide-and-seek!"

"Hide-and-seek?"

"You know, the game I was playing last time when I came here? It's pretty fun. Wanna play with me?"  
  


After some hesitation the redhead shyly looked at him and nodded. The ravenet looked back at him with surprise.  
For almost all his life in the Elven Kingdom, Stan had only seen elves being, well, elves: from all ages they were graceful, elegant, but also terribly prideful and cocky. Kyley had stricken him as being a good representative of his race, having around him this aura of know-it-all and even authority; maybe was it because he was confronted to things he wasn't used to, but right now it was the first time Kyley appeared closer to a child than anything else. Hesitant, but curious. Shy. It was a bit eerie to see honestly.

"Humm... so what is it about..?" Kyley asked, unsure.

Stan beamed. "I'll show you!"  
  


He explained the rules—which the elf found quite strange, but anyway—and they began playing around the clearing.

Kyley was the one to start the game. He was counting up to sixty seconds while covering his ears, which let Stan ample time to climb up a tree and hide among the foliage.

He grinned devilishly when he saw the redhead's confident expression quickly turn to a frown of confusion then a pout when he couldn't find him. He wasn't allowed to use magic to be fair, but Stan saw him gradually pull every tricks an elf could use to beat him: scanning the area with his sharper vision; placing his palms behind his pointy ears to get totally focused on the sounds around him; putting his hands on the ground and try to feel any sudden vibrations; but to no avail. Hidden among the shadows of the trees, Stan had become as motionless and silent as a predator waiting for its prey.

Kyley had only five minutes to find him, and it was only because some pollen decided to unexpectedly enter his nose and make him sneeze, that the ginger found him.

They played this little game of back-and-forth for several hours, both trying each time to outdo the other. The elf was making big progress at spotting him and hiding from him but it was obvious he was not used to the forest, so Stan with his experience won the final round before they both agreed to stop and take a break.  
  
Kyley was looking at him in disbelief, wiping off the sweat of his forehead. Stan was glad to see the redhead's cheeks all flushed, looking much more alive and healthy than before.

"I cannot believe how skilled you are at this!" he exclaimed. Stan laughed arrogantly.

"Do you think you're the first elf I play hide-and-seek with? Fool! I'm still learning, but by now I know almost every tricks to outdo you all."

The ginger huffed. "Do not get too cocky, human. I will soon find the way to beat you for sure."

"That's right, keep talking my dude," S replied, and he playfully nudged him with his elbow. To his surprise, Kyley took it well and chuckled.

"This human game is impressive though," the red-head mused. "You have to think tactically to successfully find your opponent and hide from them, but you also have to possess physical aptitudes to win. It is an inventive way of training."

"It's not a training!" Stan laughed. "It's just a fun game for human children! But you're right, it's not an easy game if you play it seriously."

Playing and running around seemed to have lighten up entirely the elf's general mood, because for a moment he looked genuinely happy to be here; he was still taunting Stan and throwing jabs at him, but did it in a much more playful way than before. Despite all of this, after a while, the boy quietly lost his smile. Kyley turned to Stan and the raven-haired boy saw how solemn he had become.

"I am impressed by you, I truly am," the redhead said. He paused, his jaws clenched. "I... I am embarrassed to say it, but just because you are a human I thought I would easily win over you. I was quickly proven wrong. I am sorry to have judged you so fast only because of your race." He offered an amiable hand towards Stan.

"I am certain you will make an excellent knight in the future."

The ravenet took the hand into his and peacefully shook it.

"Don't worry too much, I'm used to this attitude. But thank you for your words because they mean a lot to me." He smiled. "And I was sent here for that purpose, right? For Elves to see Humans in a more positive light."

"And it's working," the redhead confirmed, and a warm smile spread to his lips, creating little dimples Stan didn't know existed before. "It's working."

They looked at each other with a new-found appreciation, before Kyley added: "I am still beating you next time, though."

Stan laughed. "Keep on dreaming dude."  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I have too much time with the quarantine. Hope you liked the chapter! Next one will surely take more time to write though.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stan couldn't help but gulp. The third floor of the house had another atmosphere than the other floors, which bustled with life from all the servant staff present downstairs. This one remained still, tepid and quiet. Not even the squeak of a mouse disturbed the silence."

Stan was patiently waiting on the dead trunk at the end of the clearing—although his patience was beginning to thin out. He was constantly checking the position of the sun in the sky to see how much time had passed, because what seemed to be hours to him were, in fact, mere seconds in the real world. He sighed, nervously tapping his foot on the ground as only the noises of the forest and the sound of his own heartbeat could answer his questions.

Kyley had told him to wait for him in the clearing, promising he would arrive next Sunday at four o'clock to come and play with him again. Of course for the whole following week Stan had been excitedly waiting for this; but since he arrived at four, about one hour and a half had passed and no one had come. This situation was anxiously bringing him flashbacks from previous weeks where he would stand all alone in the clearing, stupidly losing hope over if someone would come or not.

Did Kyley stand him up? Did he got played? Was he sick again? Who knew, because nobody was there to tell him.

"Well, not gonna wait here for too long am I," Stan grumbled to himself. He packed up the few belongings he had brought with him (some cakes he had kept to share, a pack of cards and a few more games to play with Kyley) and began taking the path leading to home.

"Young man, wait!" a voice called from afar.

Surprised Stan turned his head, only to see rushing in the clearing a tall figure.

It was an elf, and an adult one at that, dressed in what was evidently a fancy valet livery—the serious glasses perched on his nose and his perfectly styled hair complementing his outfit. The only thing staining this otherwise spotless appearance was him sweating and panting like a mad man.

"Hum, excuse me, but... who are you..?" Stan asked, unsure. Questions flooded his mind: was this strange man crazy? He is wearing the uniform, but was he really a valet? What did he want to do with him?

"Ah, sorry young man!" the elf said hastily, catching his breath. He quickly straightened his posture in an attempt to appear more respectable. "Before anything else, are you Stanley Marshwalker?"

"Err, yes. Why?"

"Great! I was scared I was in the wrong clearing for a moment. Well, I need you to come with me."

Stan quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And why would I follow you?"

"Ah, excuse me, I keep getting sidetracked! By the Gods, finding you was a task in itself. So. I am the mast—I mean! _Kyley's_ ," he sounded a bit annoyed at having to say this name, "er, _valet instructor_. He has asked for you to be by his side." Stan's eyes grew wide.

"Kyley's instructor?" And he added with confusion, "And what do you mean by his side? Can't he come here by himself?" The valet instructor shook his head.

"I wish he could, Mr. Marshwalker. But he has unfortunately fallen ill again and he is at the moment bedridden. Despite all our warnings though he has threatened to leave his bed if not let free, claiming he has seen worse." He sighed. "I promised I would bring you to him if he kept still."

The raven-haired boy opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Well, that was unexpected. Maybe he was getting the wrong idea, but his stomach fluttered at the idea of Kyley wanting to see him so much he was ready to leave his bed even when sick. 

But quiet to the reverie: it's not like he wanted him to put himself in danger for nothing.

"If that's the only way to keep him still, then I guess I don't have a choice do I? We have no time to spare."

"That's the spirit! Thank you infinitely, Mr. Marshwalker. Now please follow me."

And Stan indeed followed him through the woods, trailing behind him as they took quick twists and turns in the deeper parts of the forest. The valet like a perfectly trained host kept him well-entertained, asking him a series of polite questions—even sounding interested when Stan answered—and making pleasant small talk with him. It felt strange because of how much it contrasted from his life with his knight peers, but the valet with all his respectful "Mr. Marshwalker" and considerate demeanor was making him feel like he was actually someone important, despite his _humanness_ and his young age. It was a new feeling and Stan would lie if he said he didn't love it.

Said valet suddenly stopped in the middle of nowhere and started fumbling around to find something in his jacket. Stan wondered why did they stop: this place had nothing in particular to show, and looked like any part of the woods. But then the elf pulled out from one pocket a small pouch, to which he delicately loosened the ribbon keeping it close before pulling out some opal-like shimmering powder and blowing it in front of him.

"Now Mr. Marshwalker, if you would please follow me," he pointed to the tree in front of them. It was old and gnarly, but nothing special: it was, well, a tree. Stan raised an eyebrow.

"Where should I follow you?" he said as he looked around. He couldn't possibly mean to follow him _in the tree_ , it made no sense.

"In the tree Sir!" The valet confirmed. He took Stan's hand without asking and put it over the bark of the tree. Where it should have been hard and rough, his fingers only met a vague nothingness. He gasped and quickly pulled out his hand out of surprise.

"What kind of magic is this? Freaky!!"

"I'm glad you appreciate it! It's dissimulation magic, Sir."

The elf led the way and they both "crossed" the tree, the elf with a confident stride and Stan with much more hesitation. A few minutes after walking into nothingness (weirdest sensation ever, by the way) they were suddenly both doused with intense light. Stan blinked, and appeared at the end of a cobbled path a large country house.

It was big, but not _imposing_ : it felt old and warm, the stony exterior worn smooth from maybe centuries of sun and wind and rain, the walls partly covered in blooming creeping ivy—releasing a fresh sweet smell in the air. The sides of the house were surrounded by the forest, but Stan could catch behind it the sight of a few other buildings. He whistled and exclaimed:

"That's some cool house to work at right there!" In response the valet nodded—and not without some pride. He gestured to the entrance and they entered the estate.

"Kyley's bedroom is upstairs, I'll show you the way," the valet said. In a maze-like manner they climbed up and walked through countless stairs and hallways, all of which were made from natural elements but looked very pricey and refined ('Wow, must be a big shot's house!' Stan thought), and while his guide had a quick talk with a butler Stan could see numerous maids and servants scurrying from one room to another, some stopping to glance or even gawk at him.

Their quest was finally done when they arrived in front of a simple yet elegant wooden door.

"One of the butlers just told me his state has worsened, so please be mindful of that." His voice was professional, but a slight inflection in his voice betrayed his worry.

"Of course!"

The valet bowed one last time, grave, and left him alone in front of Kyley's room.

Stan couldn't help but gulp. The third floor of the house had another atmosphere than the other floors, which bustled with life from all the servant staff present downstairs. This one remained still, tepid and quiet. Not even the squeak of a mouse disturbed the silence.

No sounds were coming from Kyley's bedroom either.

Stan knocked on the door. "Excuse me? Kyley, it's me, Stan..." He waited for a response but nothing came. He took a deep breath and entered the room.

He had to let his eyes get used to the dim light of the room first: the curtains were pulled, barely letting the view outside pass through them. The second thing he had to get used to was Kyley.

He laid entirely motionless under the sheets. The bed was swallowing him, by how larger it was than him. His vibrant pumpkin hair was flat and matted to his forehead, on which someone had put a wet cloth to probably help him cool down. He was so white his skin almost glowed in the darkness of the room, and yet his cheeks shined by how much they burned with a sick flame. The bags under his eyes had increased and his pale lips were parted in an attempt at breathing better.

"Wow, you look like total garbage," Stan hissed.

What else was he supposed to say? 'Are you okay'? Kyley looked like he was one step away from the grave. Where was the lively boy from last week? His stomach tied in knots as he sat beside the bed.

Kyley looked at him through fever-hooded eyes.

"I do not look like garbage..." he grumbled. Even his voice seemed wrung by sickness.

"Of course you do. Don't tell me you wanted to go out in that state?" Stan lectured. He was not an angel himself, but come on. Kyley muttered to himself.

"They can't keep me forever in here..."

"Of course they can." Stan's brows furrowed in a concerned expression. "Do you want me to leave? You look like you should get some rest and—"

"No! No," Kyley interrupted. His tone was suddenly imploring. "Please stay with me. Please..."

Stan stayed quiet, but remained where he was. A heavy silence sat in the room.

"You live in an awesome house by the way," Stan said after a while.

Kyley croaked a chuckle. "Thanks."

"Though it feels a little... Ugh, I'm not sure how to say it... Empty? There are tons of servants here, but this floor is really... _quiet_." 'Lonely, even', Stan thought to himself. He didn't miss how the elf's face dropped.

"I know... They do not want to bother me or aggravate my state, so most of the time they leave me alone here..." he murmured. He looked miserable while saying that.

"Don't your family come and visit you sometime?" Kyley shook his head.

"My parents have a lot of responsibilities. I cannot call them every time I feel bad." He added, saddened: "And I do not want my little brother to see me like that..."

Stan pouted. He understood the little brother part, but the parents?

"Come on, I'm sure coming from time to time to see their son wouldn't bother them at all," he said, shaking his head. He pondered for some time before adding: "And why not call some friends of yours then? That would bring some life here." When he was sick—and not contagious—his captain would always let a least two or three pages come and see him. They mostly gloated about today's mischiefs or what they did at training, but it was always a nice touch to his day. Kyley fists suddenly clenched white.

"Do I look like I have friends?" he angrily asked, and without waiting continued: "Of course I don't. The only people I know are people I _must_ know, not people who actually care about me. Some would even be happy with me finally dead!" he snarled.

"Hey, hey, calm down dude! Don't say that."

"That's how it is though!" he yelled. He crossed his arms over his chest and withdrew into his bed, bitter. "You cannot understand how it is."

Stan wanted to look at him and tell him all he was saying was false, that everything was going to be okay. But he lowered his gaze to the ground instead—unable to meet Kyley's tormented eyes.

What could he even say to that? He didn't know anything about Kyley's life, really. So how could he say something _meaningful_ to him? 

For the first time in ages, Stan felt powerless at helping someone.

"Do you know," Kyley said, interrupting his train of thoughts, "what it feels like to be scared to fall asleep?" He was looking at the window now, his fevered gaze searching for the little of outside peeking through the window.

"Like when you're afraid of having nightmares?" Stan asked, not sure where the conversation was going. The elf had a hollow laugh.

"Yes, I guess nightmares work too..." He put his head on his hand, still looking outside. His eyes were painfully dull.

"I guess my nightmare would be the one where you fall asleep, but you never wake up. The one where you die all alone in your room without even someone noticing or comforting you in your last moments..."

Stan's breathing suddenly hitched in his throat, his pulse ringing in his ears as the realization of what Kyley just said settled in.

Without a warning he grabbed the redhead's hands and firmly squeezed them into his, maybe a bit too forcefully. His hands were so small and cold against his fingers.

"Don't you dare speak like it's already over for you." He gripped his hands harder. "You're not going to die, get it? You were healthy last week, so why wouldn't you be healthy again in a few days? Don't give up so quick, I didn't take you for a coward." He knew he was talking too much, but he couldn't stop words from pouring out of his mouth. "You goddamn idiot. You fucking moron. Why don't you make some new friends if all the people you know suck?"

Kyley shot him an incredulous look and opened and closed his mouth like a gaping fish, like he couldn't pick what to react to or say first.

"You... You do get I cannot leave this room most of the time, right? How can I even make friends like this?" he bumbled.

"Let's start with me then. I can be your friend."

The elf's eyes widened even more.

"You... can?"

Stan nodded. "Sure, I wouldn't mind. I like being with you."

"I... I don't know what to say..."

"Then don't say anything," Stan offered with a small smile. "Just accept it."

* * *

"Thank you for coming here. I'm grateful for your help."

"Nah, no problem. My pleasure."

"Can I offer you some tea maybe? You must be thirsty after all this."

Stan nodded. "Sure, I'd like it."

The valet came back a few minutes later with a steaming cup of tea. "Amarabelia tea, Sir. I'm sure you will appreciate its sweetness."

"Thanks!" Stan said enthusiastically. He took a sip and as the valet said, it had a sweet flowery touch he couldn't miss. Amarabelia must be some kind of high-quality tea, he decided, because he had never tasted this kind of flavor before.

"How is Kyley?"

"He's sleeping right now. We talked a bit before he passed out..." he answered, remembering how the boy mumbled incoherent things before fainting right after they talked. He was still stricken by sickness, but as he lay on his bed with his hands tied to Stan's he had a more peaceful expression on his face.

After that the ravenet immediately called a doctor for him because passing out from fever is never a good sign.

The valet shook his head. "Sorry, I should have been more precise. How is he mentally?"

"Oh, hum..." Stan took another sip, a bit nervous. Was he allowed to talk about all the things Kyley had told him? "Maybe not that well..."

"How so?"

"Well... He seems... quite lonely, where he is."

The valet sighed.

"I knew it." He paced in the kitchen, borrowing a few mindless things to seemingly occupy his hands—and maybe his mind. "You know, this boy is quite a handful. He never tells you when something is wrong, because he wants to keep up this self-controlled appearance." He turned to him with a smile. "That's why I'm glad you are here."

"Me? How so?" Stan asked, surprised.

"I do not care about your race or social status, Mr. Marshwalker. If a good boy his age can help him go through his personal problems, then you are welcomed here, simple as that. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise," he said. He sounded so serious, yet still kept this mysterious smile on his lips.

Stan was confused. At least that meant he was accepted here, right?

"Uh, thanks then. I'll try to help as much as I can." The valet's smile grew fonder.

"I'm sure you will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eer yeah, kinda went overboard with the drawing. But I just love vibrant colors and Art Nouveau/stained glass aesthetic! This time I didn't draw a particular moment in the story but more the theme of this chapter, if that makes sense (I hope it does)  
> The country house is inspired by where my best friend is spending the confinement: in his family castle. Yes, family castle. Quarantine must be so tough for him smh  
> This chapter is a bit heavier than usual, but hey don't worry, it'll get lighter soon!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Welcome, Stanley Marshwalker. Welcome to the Elven Kingdom, your new home."

_Stan was looking outside the carriage's window, his vision blurry from silent tears. He didn't recognize the scenery he was seeing: his house, the market he went to with Mom, the church, his hometown, everything was gone. Instead all he could see was this big, big forest extending way farther than his eyes could reach.  
_

_He was scared, so scared. Dad, who fought the war long ago, would often tell him about his war stories. "They come at night, and the minute you fall asleep they snatch you from your bed and you disappear. I even heard they eat their prisoners, those sneaky bastards." At this moment he would always pause to drink the rest of his pint, staring in its glassy bottom like it was the mirror to his blurry memories, before adding in a slur: "Their... Their magic is terrifying, Stan... When they use it, it's like the Earth is possessed by them. If you see a drow elf... run, my son. Run..."_

_That's what his Dad would always say to him, so why was he now surrounded by drow elves?_

_The strange clothes they forced him to wear scared him. Their colorful eyes frightened him. Their pointy ears were terrifying. The language they talked, this series of long words articulated by weirdly soothing consonants, made him want to cry harder. The only man here who spoke Common like him was an elf who, when Stan bluberred to him in search of reassurance, told him to shut up and stop crying: he is representing the Human race and he should stand proud instead of smearing snot everywhere. From that moment onward Stan hadn't said one more word, and tried to cry as discreetly as possible—only letting a few sniffles from time to time for the elves to hear._

_When they arrived after ten days of travel at the capital of the Elvish Kingdom, Stan was utterly exhausted. So exhausted, that when they brought him to the castle he could barely stand on his legs, his hand dangling from the clutch of the woman in charge of him._

_The only real thing he remembered from that moment, something that would stay etched into his memory forever, was the eyes of the elves looking at him. Curious eyes, fascinated sometimes even; but mostly cold. Colorful, dead, cold eyes._

_He had to wait for a long time in a big room full of elves in armor. He was wondering if he was allowed to ask to go pee, when a loud, melodious tune reached the room. The elves in armor immediately stood straight as entered a crowd of lavishly clad men and women, bowing, curtsying to one other, ignoring Stan who was doing his best to try and stay as far away from these scary strangers as possible. Not before long arrived the most luxuriously dressed people of them all: a man, wearing a majestic crown of intertwined branches and long coat of red and gold, and a woman, adorned in a precious dress of blue velvet and carrying in her arms a swaddled baby._

_Silence fell upon the room as the man walked to Stan. People gasped when he gracefully put one knee down on the ground to be at a human child's level. He began speaking in Common, the words slowly rolling on his tongue like these foreign sounds weren't organically made for him.  
_

_"Welcome, Stanley Marshwalker. Welcome to the Elven Kingdom, your new home."_

_From behind the woman appeared a small figure, shyly glancing at Stan. It was a small child, wearing a rich green tunic and illuminating the room with the fiery red hair he shared with the woman._

Stan gasped, suddenly waking up from his dream like someone had dropped a bucket of cold water on him.

He darted his eyes around the room in a panic, first not recognizing where he was nor why he wasn't in the page's quarters: had he been attacked? Kidnapped maybe? He finally calmed down when he realized he was only in Kyley's room. He sighed, and brushed away the ink bangs sticking to his forehead because of the sweat he had produced during his sleep.

It had been so long since the last time he had dreamed of his childhood.

He used to do that a lot, to pray to God before sleep, in hopes of getting the chance to relive through dreams what it was like to be in his human home again. Though being so far away from home, it only took him a few months to start to forget what his parents and sister's voices were like, what they used to wear, even their faces; until only remained fragments of memories, like the sound of his father's pint hitting the table or the smell of his mother's cooking. 

After that, he decided to stop trying to remember things that were inescapably fading away anyway.

He looked at where his head was resting before, Kyley's bed. 'I must have fallen asleep while listening to the birds outside,' he guessed. The birds at this estate had such a melodious singing.

Stan heard a moan beside him and he immediately put back his hand where it was before he fell asleep—Kyley, who was beginning to fidget, calmed down right away. His face became peaceful again and he stopped moving.

Stan found it cute, how holding Kyley's hand seemed to be one of the only ways to calm him down when he was getting agitated in his sleep. He gently squeezed his hand and the redhead got only more relaxed.

How touch-deprived this boy must be, when one stroke of a hand was enough to soothe him.

He looked at him intently. His skin had taken a more normal shade of white again, the freckles on his cheeks more visible now that the fever-red was gone. He also looked way less tired—like he was finally getting some sleep after passing out for days. Maybe he would even wake up soon, had told him Rohen (the valet instructor).

Staring at his fluffy red hair, he wondered why he saw a little ginger boy in his dream though. He, of course, recognized the swaddled baby: it was the beloved Prince Ike, still an infant at the time. The memory of the first time he met the Elvish King and the Queen was clear as day in his mind, as they had made such an impression on his younger self; so why this little boy? He didn't remember seeing him at all before that. Who was he? The child of one of the noble present that day? He was pretty sure that besides the regal couple no nobles had brought their children with them, as he only remembered cold adult faces and no other children his age or teenagers or whatever.

Another prince maybe? Stan shook his head, almost laughing for thinking of this option. If the King and Queen had another child then they were never spoken of, which didn't really make sense to why that would be the case.

The only one he knew with red hair as bright and curly as the boy's in the dream was Kyley, and he was, well, not a prince. Maybe Kyley was making such an impression on him it was distorting his memories, he chuckled to himself. 

The page yawned and stretched, and without anything to do besides lazying around he decided to resume with the homework he had been doing before falling asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for a reminder, lil Stanley is 5 when he arrives to the Elven Kingdom. Poor boy lol  
> Another disclaimer, just to be clear: "Kyley" is not Kyle's name in this AU. It's only the name he has chosen for himself ;)  
> This chapter is a bit short, but next one will be a big one! Hope you liked it nonetheless!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Even though we are trained for combat we wouldn't have held long against a powerful opponent. But while we were staying there thinking of what to do, while we stayed still from doubt and fear, we could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry but I didn't have the time to illustrate this chapter on time. I will most likely do it later, but right now I'm in the middle of finals. I still wanted to publish this chapter though so here it is (I might edit some parts as I rushed it a little lol)

"What does ' _sal aëstar thiramen_ ' mean?" It was so pretty when he was the one to say it.

"Err... 'I love her'?"

Kyley shook his head. "It means 'I love them'. I thought you were getting it for a moment." Stan muttered under his breath, grumbling how Old Elvish was a bullshit language anyway and they should all stop learning stupid dead languages.

" _Va-r ary siffi._ "

Stan squinted, as if it could help him decipher the sentence better. "You... Big..." He yelled when he realized what Kyley had just said: "Did you just call me a dumbass in Old Elvish?!" Kyley stifled a laugh and Stan fake-punched him in the arm.

"Let's stop with this dumb homework," he groaned as he tossed aside the stack of parchments and his quill. He pitifully lay his head on Kyley's bed. "I know I am the one who asked for your help, but you're so smart it's actually hurting me. Stop it." The elf chuckled.

"I just have a lot of 'useless knowledge', as you said it." He patted Stan's hair with a gentle hand. "I am sure you will master the language sooner than you think." Stan didn't respond, partially because he didn't believe him but also because the hand on his hair was distracting his thoughts.

He continued rambling about his homework and about how stupid it was when he got the sense Kyley wasn't listening to him anymore. He raised his eyes, and he saw the redhead was staring outside. The curtains were wide-open today, so a pleasant breeze was blowing into the room as the fresh spring green of the trees was reflecting and merging in Kyley's eyes—which were deep in thought.

"Got something on your mind?" Stan asked.

"I wish I could go outside right now," Kyley said. "There are so many things I want to do with you now." He glanced at Stan before looking outside again, a bit of red showing up on his cheeks. "Now that I have a friend, I mean." Stan felt his own cheeks heat up at this declaration and he casually waved his hand.

"Aaw, thanks. What do you wanna do, though?"

Kyley started counting on his fingers, mumbling to himself.

"I am not too sure... There are too many things, I think..."

"Why not do a list then?"

* * *

"Play sports with a ball... Go fishing... Got to a fair..." Stan enumerated. "Your choices are so... how to put it?" Stan was trying not to grin but it showed nonetheless, because Kyley pouted—probably vexed by his reaction.

"My choices are _what_?"

"They are just," the page giggled, " _so wholesome!_ "

Most of these whishes were things he would have wished to do himself, but only when he was younger and so very eager to discover the simple things of the world. It was so innocent.

"I wonder why 'camping in the wild' is so high on the list though." At that Kyley immediately perked up.

"I have always wanted to go camping!" he exclaimed, his fists gripping the bedsheet in excitement, "To live entirely on your own, to experience for a time the hardships of nature!"

"Mmh... It's not as cool as you think, though."

Kyley faltered. "Why do you say so?" 

A shiver of horror ran down Stan's spine as he remembered his previous camping experiences.

"For training we often have to camp in the woods. It's cold as fuck, we can barely sleep because of how uncomfortable our tents are, there can be tons of insects ready to suck your blood, and unless we manage to hunt something or collect some plants we have to eat shit food for days."

"Should I remove 'camping in the wild' from my list then?" Kyley seemed so disappointed, his shoulders all slumped, that Stan quickly responded:

"Not necessarily!" He pondered for a while, tapping a finger on his chin, before adding: "Our captains make our camping trips needlessly complicated on purpose, just so we get used to harsh conditions. But maybe with the right material we can manage to do something enjoyable?"

Kyley's smile immediately came back to his lips.

"Great then! Can we do this?"

Stan looked at him with a befuddled look.

"Like, right now?" The elf nodded excitedly, but the page rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed to let his friend down. "Today is not possible, I have to be back at my quarters in two hours. And I don't even have any camping material on me..."

"Ah, sorry..." Kyley laughed awkwardly. "I got carried away. Of course that's the case..."

"But I'm pretty sure the knights are going to drown themselves in ale before the next tournament, and the squires aren't very strict on us pages. I think can try to sneak out."

"Sneak out?" Kyley asked, worried. "Will you not be in trouble if you get caught?" Stan smirked.

"Leave that to me!"

* * *

"I can't fucking believe you're ditching us for a chick," Clyde said disapprovingly. He was keeping watch by the door, in case anyone came by while Stan packed some stuff. "It's the perfect occasion for a bro night, and you leave us to spend the night in a girl's skirt. I know you humans are early bloomers because you die faster than rabbits, but don't you think you should reconsider what you're doing right now?"

Stan sighed. Clyde hadn't stopped complaining since he told him about his plan to leave the night before the tournament. Stan liked Clyde, but certainly not his hard head.

Rohen, the valet instructor, had asked him not to talk _at all_ about Kyley—for his "security", apparently. Stan wasn't sure why Kyley needed that much privacy, but he eventually agreed on it. Except that one time he accidentally mentioned to his group he had met someone new, and from then on all hell broke loose: the other pages wouldn't stop nagging him to get more information about this mysterious new friend, and he was now stuck denying every dumb theory they came up with.

He was also pretty sure Clyde was this annoying not because he really wanted a "bro night", but only because he had come to the personal conclusion Stan had gotten himself a girlfriend and was going to get action before him.

"I'm only spending the night for a sleepover, nothing else! Stop being so fucking gross dude."

Clyde scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Don't come to me when she gets pregnant and you get kicked off from Knighthood."

"Can you stop spewing shit with that mouth of yours?" Stan was sure Clyde didn't even know even half of the dirty things he was saying. "It's not my fault if Bebe dumped you, so stop being a jealous ass for two seconds and help me pack this."

"Sleeping bags?" Clyde sneered. "Damn, not a very high-class fuck."

"For the love of God shut the fuck up," Stan groaned, and Clyde finally helped him arrange his bag for the night.

When they were done they both silently checked the building's different entrances, and after seeing the squires gathered in a room drinking stolen booze instead of keeping an eye on their juniors, they were pretty sure this operation would be a success.

"You can lie to me all you want Stan," Clyde said to him when the dark-haired boy was about to leave, "but... spend a good evening with your 'friend', okay? Just don't come back too late because I won't be able to cover for you too long." Stan smiled and patted his back.

"Thanks, man."

He then waved his hand, to which Clyde waved back, and he began his journey towards the forest.

* * *

He barely had the time to knock that a familiar redhead opened the door.

"Hi!" Kyley said. He was all smiles, and for the first time in weeks, he wasn't in nightwear but in a proper outfit. Stan smiled too, because he was happy to see him finally back on his feet.

"Hi Kyley!" The elf moved away from the door and let Stan enter the house.

"You must have been waiting just behind that door to not even let the butler open it," the page joked. But the ginger did not joke back, and Stan saw the tip of his ears flush red.

It was decided that since Kyley's recovery was still new they were not allowed to camp in the woods, but only on the estate's property—much to Kyley's deception. Stan reassured him by saying they had the whole spring and summer ahead of them to camp again if he wanted to, and that seemed to cheer him up a bit.

Stan didn't see how he couldn't be satisfied with the estate's property, though. It was _huge_. Sure, it wasn't the size of the castle's grounds, but come on: it had flower gardens, kitchen gardens, magic gardens, orchards, greenhouses to relax and drink tea and even a fucking _lake_. How the fuck can all of this stay hidden from the outside world? Rohen had told him powerful magic protected the place from those undesired, but still!

All of these created a powerful mix of pleasant smells (from the sweet fragrance of flowers, the fresh scent of herbs, to the smell of ripe fruits ready to eat) and of sights to admire. But Kyley seemed totally bored by these wonders, like he had already seen these kinds of things thousands of times and better. 

And he was the one to find the rough life in the woods amazing. Truly they didn't come from the same world, Stan thought. Not to add that although valet in training was indeed quite the noble position, Kyley sure didn't act like a servant—but more like _the master of this place_.

In the end they settled for a more fallow and remote part of the estate, just on the edge of what they were allowed. He watched his friend's eyes sparkle with excitement as he pulled out from his bag the camping material he had stolen from the knights's stockroom (not like anybody was going to notice one measly tent, a pack hunting material and two sleeping bags missing anyway—especially drunk). He explained to him how to choose the perfect ground to sleep better and how to pitch a tent, and if Kyley wasn't really good at this he made it up by his enthusiasm.

"Want the 'comfort experience' or the 'hard experience'?" Kyley nodded eagerly at the last option, so Stan grabbed some of the hunting material. "Do you know how to hunt?"

The elf didn't know how to, so he had to show him that too. On the way he also showed him which wild berries and mushrooms were ok to eat, and even if Stan wasn't the best hunter-gatherer it was still funny to see how Kyley looked at him like he was some kind of genius of the wild.

The sun was setting when they got back to their campsite, the elf carrying their food supplies while Stan carried some wood. While the ravenet was preparing the campfire he decided to ask something that had been bothering him for a while now.

"Kyley?"

"Hm?"

"Why aren't you using your magic?" he asked, arranging some twigs to help with the kindling of the fire. "All this time you let me use non-magical methods instead of just using your magic. Are there any particular reasons?"

The elf squirmed, apparently uncomfortable with the question.

"Hum..." He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then closed it. He finally let this slip: "My magic is quite unstable. I do not want to hurt you by accident..."

Stan nodded with adding anything; it was hard enough for an elf to admit their magic was faulty after all. But then Kyley added with a smile: "Even if it was harder that way, I found it quite interesting to see you do things without any magic. I did not think that much work could go into just getting material. It feels so rewarding that we managed to get this much material only by using our hands and minds!"

"Makes your life much harder though," Stan laughed, although maybe a bit bitterly.

He understood Kyley's reaction, of course, this love of putting an effort into something and finally getting what you wanted in the end. But... It's just that elves didn't realize how easy their lives are, with most of them having magic to do all the legwork for them. So to see the redhead admire what the majority of humans had to go through every day to survive like a once in a lifetime oddity, was maybe a bit jarring to him.

He knew Kyley didn't meant anything mean by that, so he didn't share his uneasiness with him.

When they were done lighting a fire and the meat was starting to cook, it was Kyley's turn to ask a question.

"What else do we do when camping?"

The flames's light was dancing on his inquisitive face, lighting up his red hair and lashes on fire and creating in the dark a moving sketch of his face. This strange vision inspired Stan.

"We tell scary stories," he whispered, like somebody was listening to them and he shouldn't be telling this. "Because weird things always happen when camping." Kyley's eyes grew wider.

"Really? Like what?"

Stan sighed dramatically. "Oh... It's your first time camping, I don't know if it's a good idea to scare you that fast..."

Kyley nudged him in the ribs, annoyed, and Stan smirked.

"But if you insist..."

He pushed a stick into the fire, making it flare a little and making the suspense linger longer than it should, and then finally said:

"There was that one time... Ah, I remember it. It was two years ago, in the middle of winter. It wasn't a night like tonight, all calm and mild; it was cold, so much so that despite our cloaks and uniforms our fingers and toes were entirely numb, and our teeth were chattering. That kind of night." One glance and he could tell Kyley was engrossed in his story. He refrained from snickering. "We huddled together in the tent, because otherwise it felt like we would have frozen to death during our sleep.

We were beginning to nod off, and that's when we heard the front of the tent start to open. Slowly but surely, somebody was opening our tent.

We were scared by this—I mean, it was too slow, it was too weird to be normal—and some of us were ready to try and surprise the person opening the tent, when we saw in the dark of the night it was only one of our friends. He was utterly terrified.

First we scolded him for scaring us, like 'why did you have to open the tent like that? Can't you sleep like everyone else?' But then he quickly told us to shush and he entered the tent. He was trembling, holding on his dagger for dear life. He hurriedly whispered to us, 'I went outside to take a piss, but when I got far enough from the campsite to be alone I heard little noises near me. I thought it was only an animal, but when I heard it again I could tell they were not only noises but _steps_ in the snow. I thought it was one of you guys so I tried to call for your names, but no one responded. I was a little creeped out so I decided to come back to the campsite. But since I've left, I swear I hear footsteps following me. I said, "Come on, whoever it is, just show yourself to me it's not funny!", but nothing. When I walk the footsteps follow my steps, and when I stop they stop. I ran back here, but..."' He stopped talking, and we were all holding our breaths. That's when we heard it too."

Kyley, who was also holding his breath, asked with a small voice—almost a whisper:

"Footsteps?"

Stan nodded.

"Slow footsteps, quietly cracking the snow under them, like they were trying to be as discreet as possible. But we could hear them, we could all hear them. The friend who went outside let out a frightened yelp and we all immediately told him to shut up. Even though we almost couldn't feel our hands from the cold at this point we drew out our weapons, some of us daggers and other swords. I had a sword." He gripped his hand like he was holding one right now. 

"We had our weapons, but we weren't even sure of what do with them. We were looking at each other, wondering: 'do we go outside? Do we try to call the adults first?'. We are still young pages, back then even more so, so even though we are trained for combat we wouldn't have held long against a powerful opponent. But while we were staying there thinking of what to do, while we stayed still from doubt and fear, we could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer.

In the end one of my friends, Token, made the sign he was going to go outside. We decided to follow him, because we wouldn't let him go alone against an unknown threat. We were about to open the tent and burst out of it, when we heard it."

Kyley gasped.

"Heard what?!"

The fire crackled and hissed, because the fat of the meat was seeping onto it. Stan grabbed one end of the stick holding the meat in the air and turned it over, letting the other side of the skinned rabbit roast.

"We heard nothing. The footsteps had stopped."

The ginger frowned in confusion.

"And is that how the story ends?" Stan chuckled.

"So impatient. No, that's not the end."

"As I said, the footsteps had stopped. We were all looking at each other thinking, 'what is happening? Is it gone?'. We stayed frozen in place for what felt like hours, tense like a thread ready to split at any seconds, listening for the slightest of noise outside the tent. We could even hear that the snow had steadily started to fall.

It was Token who pointed out with a trembling finger the wall of the tent behind us, his face twisted like he was barely keeping himself from screaming. We turned our heads, and we saw what was suddenly scaring Token so much: something the shape of a hand was pressing against the canvas, pushing into it so much it almost reached the shoulder of one of us. We hadn't seen it since we were so focalized on sounds; to be able to go that far without us hearing it, that hand must have been pushing in for a while, so slowly it didn't make a single noise. Together in unison we screamed in terror and one page took his blade and plunged it into the hand—but it immediately withdrewn itself, leaving only an empty hole in the tent.

We all ran out outside, wielding our weapons and ready to slash some great monster. But there was nothing.

We were all alone in the forest. Worst, there weren't even any footsteps in the snow. The only proof something had happened to us was the hole in the tent, flapping to the wind. There was nothing, but we still decided to grab whatever material we could and we ran away as quickly as possible to the knights in charge of us." The meat was sizzling just right, now, so Stan picked up the stick and began cutting the food with his small knife.

"First they told us we just imagined everything. But a few days later, they admitted they didn't want to scare us more than we already were, but that this kind of incident had already happened in that part of the forest."

Kyley's jaw was slack open. When Stan presented to him his portion of cooked rabbit and mushrooms he didn't take it right away, because he was still shocked by what he had just heard.

"Did that really happen??" he loudly exclaimed. Stan only shrugged with a smirk.

"Who knows?"

"Oh come on!" Kyley said, frowning. "You cannot leave me hanging there!"

"Isn't it scarier when you're not sure it really happened?" Stan teased. In response the elf only pouted and started munching angrily on his meal.

"Well you may be lying, but I know something scary that is _real_."

Stan quirked his eyebrows. "Ah, really?"

"Yes." He gestured towards the mansion. "You know this house is old, right?" The dark-haired boy nodded, amused. "Well, it is old, _very_ old. Generations of people have died and lived here, even humans during the war." Stan's smile dropped a little at the mention of the war.

"It is well hidden among the servants of the house, but I know some terrible things happened here before the building was restored to its former glory. Kidnappings, torture. Murders. Of course it was long ago, but," he said, wiping his mouth, "there are still strange things happening here."

"Like what?" The human boy asked. He was playing it cool, but in truth he was getting a bit nervous.

"You always tell me how the third floor has a strange atmosphere, right? A bit too cold and empty." Stan nodded. "One day, I heard a feminine voice shriek outside my door. I immediately stood up to see what happened, and there I saw a maid on the floor, the food she was previously holding on the ground next to her. I asked her what happened, and she told me she saw a black figure at the end of the hallway."

"Pfff, and you want me to believe that?" Stan scoffed. Kyley shook his head.

"That is what I first thought too—maybe was she stressed that day, and imagined the whole thing. But then I noticed something after this incident."

"You noticed something..?" The redhead nodded.

"From then on, I noticed my room was getting significantly colder. It was in the middle of spring, just like today, but in my room, you could think we were at the end of autumn. Servants were avoiding the third floor more and more, and despite that I could see things changing place in my room: a book that was on my desk was now standing on my bed, the door usually locked was left ajar.

The last straw was when I was strolling through the gardens one afternoon. I was about to go back home, when something strange caught my attention: indeed, someone, or something, was standing behind my room's window. A large, black figure was standing there, motionless, and I still do not understand how but I could feel it was looking at _me—_ I suddenly felt a cold sweat run down my back and I was frozen in place, unable to detach my eyes from it.

It is only when I heard someone call for my name that I was able to move my eyes away. When I looked back, it was gone.

Before that, I was suspecting servants were somehow rummaging through my room, and it explained the strange changes; but now the situation was entirely different. I immediately told Rohen about it all, and even if he told me everything was fine I could see his face visibly pale. I don't know what he did after that but all the coldness disappeared from my room, and servants came back to the third floor like nothing had happened. I don't find anything moving in my room anymore, but I know the inhabitants of this house still hear strange noises at night, or see sometimes in the corner of their eyes sudden movements that shouldn't be there."

"Is... Is it true?" Stan asked. He couldn't stop himself from wondering if one day, when he went to see Kyley, he would encounter this type of thing too. But then Kyley burst out laughing.

"Isn't it scarier when you're not sure it really happened?!"

"Oh you fucking son of a bitch", Stan groaned, but Kyley only kept laughing his ass off.

"If you could see your face!! You looked so scared!"

"No I was not!!"

"You were!"

"Shut up!"

Kyle continued giggling for a while as Stan brooded in his corner. Damnit, he got tricked at his own game! He was so pissed at himself.

"I did not invent the part about the past of the house though," Kyley said, wiping a tear of laughter from his eyes. "It really has a dark past. Servants also avoid the cave, because it is rumoured to be haunted."

"Yeah, like I can ever believe you again now," Stan grumbled. Kyley just grinned.

They continued talking until the fire was reduced to glowing embers, and then Stan told him they should get into the tent. The temperature was dropping after all.

"Did you bring blankets like I asked?" Stan asked, wiggling into his sleeping bag. He heard Kyley curse at himself.

"Oh, shoot! The weather was so nice today, I forgot..."

"Nah, it's okay I guess. I hope these bags will do though, they're pretty thin."

"Do you want me to go to the mansion? I could be back in, hm... thirty minutes?" Stan laughed. This estate was so big it'd take him this much time to come back, it was ridiculous.

"It's okay, don't worry."

They stopped moving, and the night settled in the tent. They could hear the hoot of an owl echo somewhere and a few crickets outside, the first signs that summer was coming—but not quite yet.

Summer was coming, but Stan was still getting cold in his sleeping bag. He felt like an idiot for not thinking of taking blankets himself. He shifted several times in his bag, searching for the best position to pool the most heat on himself at once.

"Are you okay?" Kyley asked.

"Ah, yeah—just... Maybe a bit cold there," he said. He didn't want him to feel bad so he added: "But I'm used to this kind of condition already, so don't worry."

"Do..." Kyley cleared his throat, "Do you want me to share my sleeping bag with you maybe?" He sounded a little nervous, but mostly worried. "If you say it is okay fine then, but..."

Stan thought about it, troubled for an unknown reason. He did it all the time with the other pages when they were cold, even in their dormitories. So why did it felt a bit different now..?

He stammered back:

"No, I... Actually, I think I would be okay with that..."

Kyley did not respond, but he soon heard buttons popping out, and the sound of fabric moving. He guessed it meant he could come then. He crawled towards him, feeling the way with his hands until he touched a patch of warm skin—he immediately jerked his hand away.

"Ah! Sorry," he said, embarrassed, but Kyley said nothing.

Why was he even embarrassed? He had already held Kyley's hand multiple times before while he was sick, and he didn't feel weird about it back then. So why? Because he was going to be so close to him? He cringed at himself for being so awkward and making something normal weird. Damnit Stan, get a grip. You're not a virgin maiden or some shit. He moved forward and lifted the fabric of the open sleeping bag before lying under it.

He was now in Kyley's sleeping bag. The ginger's body heat was welcomed as it warmed him up a bit, and made him internally sigh with relief. Despite growing up in the snowy mountains he really didn't like cold much.

"You are on the edge of the bag. You can come closer, you know?"

Stan gulped, and guessed that yes, he could come closer. He hesitated, but then he heard an exasperated sigh and out of nowhere a hand grabbed him—he could barely understand what was happening that his body was now stuck to Kyley's. They strangely fitted well together, the elf's head under his chin as he was shorter than him. He could feel his curly hair tickling his neck. He smelt good.

"Are you warmer now?" Kyley whispered. His breath against his skin was making him shiver a bit.

"Yeah," Stan murmured.

To his surprise Kyley didn't wait much before making himself comfortable against him, wrapping one arm around him and nuzzling his face into his shoulder.

"It was an awesome evening. Thank you so much, Stan." He could feel him smiling in the crook of his neck.

"No problems. I'm happy your first experience camping was a good one."

Kyley chuckled. "It is all thanks to you." He shuffled a bit, before drowsily whispering into his ear: "Goodnight, Stan," and not before long Stan felt his breathing steadily slow down. He didn't know how the elf could fall asleep though, because his own heart was beating so hard in his chest he was sure the whole forest could hear it.

After a while, he also put his arm around Kyley, his hand just right on his frail back.

"Goodnight, Kyley," Stan said.

Maybe it was dumb to think like this—but by them talking so much together, by trusting each other enough that they allowed themselves to share so closely the same space and warmth—it felt to him like they weren't just a human and an elf anymore, or even two children with different experiences of life. They were just two beings, who were creating and sharing a bond he could feel getting deeper and deeper by the second.

Maybe it was also his best camping experience ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember how I told in chapter 3's notes that my bf was in quarantine in his family castle? Well, Kyle's horror story is also inspired by this castle. It was seized by Nazis during WW2 and very shady things happened there, but even before that the family has had a tumultuous history in the building. Now there have been multiple sightings of figures at the end of hallways, faces appearing at the windows, and smells floating in air before suddenly disappearing (like a woman's perfume). People also avoid the cave, rumored to be haunted.
> 
> As I said in the beginning I'm in the middle of finals, so next chapter will take more time to come. Hope you liked this one!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "They were royals, the most powerful beings in the kingdom, the brightest stars in the whole sky, the richest among the richest. Yet, Stan wondered why, maybe, he could still see, hidden behind the graceful solemnity of the moment, the shadows of worry and melancholy looming somewhere over their faces."

Stan lied at the rear of the rowing boat, comfortably wedged between his and Kyley's capes—removed because of the nice weather—and the braided basket, which was filled to the brim with their lunches and fishing stuff.

From under his helmet Stan watched as his friend diligently held his fishing rod all straight, staring at the water with unflinching eyes. For almost three hours they caught nothing but small fries and algae, so Stan didn't understand how Kyley could still wait excitedly for the next slight tremor of the line. Ah, beginners's enthusiasm. The page had given up long ago, fixing his own rod to the side of the boat and waiting for a catch to miraculously appear at the end of his line.

 _At least now he's able to hold his fishing rod correctly_ , Stan thought. The elf still made him do the dirty work—like handling fish and baits, because he couldn't handle their squirming and the "wetness" on his precious hands—but at least now he was enjoying himself.

They were silent; only the lap of the water licking the boat's wood or the frogs's croaking were echoing on the surface of the lake. But it was a comfortable silence. Stan liked how they didn't have to talk to feel at ease around each other. It was different from when he was with other people his age, with them always laughing and yelling on top of each other to be heard; the racket didn't bother him, but peaceful times with Kyley were greatly appreciated too. They allowed him to think more freely.

Watching the elf's curls gently dance along with the breeze under his cute little straw hat—Rohen had insisted for him to wear it for protection despite his protests—their red hue reminded him of yesterday's ceremony.

_Outside the castle, they stood in close formation at the end of the row (they're only pages, after all) of squires and knights as they waited for the yearly ceremony to start._

_"Dude, how long are we gonna wait?" Clyde asked. He was visibly getting bored of staying stationary for more than five minutes. Stan was the same, but at least he had more control over himself.  
_

_"Any minute now," Token responded. "Stop being a douche and stop moving."_

_"Not my fault they take so long to come," Clyde whined. "Come on, why do royalty always take their sweet time to do anything? It's not like they have actual chores to do."_

_"Uneasy lies the head that wears the Branches Crown," Token simply said. "We're only commoners or lower class nobles. Do you really think we can understand all the struggles they have to go through every day?"  
_

_A buzz traveled the crowd when the watery tune of a flute rose in the air. Everybody, soldiers, wealthy commoners and nobles alike stood straighter as a voice elegantly announced the coming of the royal family.  
_

_Soon, from the majestic entrance doors stepped out the Elf King, Queen, and Prince. They greeted the people and the people cheered—either from genuine joy or only for the appearance. The King looked a bit more wrinkled, the Queen plumper and the Prince brighter and smarter than ever. They were beautiful, their outfits remarkable for their elaborate and rich, yet nature-inspired designs, in true elvish fashion. The Queen's hair particularly caught Stan's attention: decorated with delicate flower jewels, it made her red hair shine just like Kyley's when it was hit by a ray of sun. It also reminded him of the mysterious redheaded child he saw in his dream a few weeks ago.  
_

_They were royals, the most powerful beings in the kingdom, the brightest stars in the whole sky, the richest among the richest. Yet, Stan wondered why, maybe, he could still see, hidden behind the graceful solemnity of the moment, the shadows of worry and melancholy looming somewhere over their faces._

"Hey, Kyley?"

"Hm?"

Kyley only slightly turned his head towards him, indicating he was listening despite keeping most of his attention on the water. Like the fish was going to flee the second he didn't look at the placid waves.

"Do you think the Queen and King have a secret child or something?"

He saw the redhead almost immediately drop his rod into the water. He turned around to face Stan, his expression a funny mix between surprise, confusion and worry.

"Why do you say so?"

Stan only shrugged. "Dunno, I was thinking about it."

"Is it from a rumor you heard maybe?" The page shook his head. Kyle sighed—of relief?—and returned to his fishing rod.

"Why are thinking about this sort of thing anyway? The royal couple would _never_ cheat and have a bastard on the side."

"Nah, that's not what I was thinking about..."

Stan lazily watched as a dragonfly came towards them, and landed on the ravenet's extended index. "I remembered some things about my childhood recently, and... I was kinda wondering, why do the Queen and King only have an adopted heir? No offense to Prince Ike, but can't they have other children on their own?" Like, little ginger children?

Kyley stayed silent for a while, his shoulders stiff but his attitude composed. He finally said with a flat voice:

"The Queen has been known for having difficult pregnancies in the past. They surely adopted a child to ensure the line to the throne, in case a natural heir dies." Kyley glanced at Stan. "Do we really have to talk about this?" His face was calm but his eyes looked hurt. Stan rose a little from his seat, a little uneasy now.

"Y—Yeah, sure."

They returned to their previous silent state, although maybe a bit more awkwardly than before.

***

Stan enthusiastically bit down on his meat pie (hungry after hours of doing literally nothing) while Kyley had finally abandoned his fishing quest to rest a little, his head settled on Stan's legs. He was pensively looking at the sky instead of eating his own meal.

"Whatcha' thinking about?" Stan asked. The elf sighed.

"Fishing with you was pretty fun. I wish I did not have to leave so soon though..."

"Do you dread magic lessons that much?"

Kyley didn't respond, anxiously wringing his hands instead.

"Is your magic _that_ unstable?"

The elf dryly responded: "Well yes, _it is_. Strangely enough, I do not like to explode things when I was supposed to levitate them."

He looked away, saddened.

"I know everything there is to know about spells and protections, but it can't be helped—nothing works for me. And to watch one more time my tutor be disappointed at me... It becomes exhausting after a while..."

Stan thoughtfully chewed on his pie, trying to come up with solutions. He didn't know what it was like to be unable to control magic when you were supposed to, but he could still try to help one way or another.

"You know how human wizards or witches use tools to help them with their magic? Maybe you could use a wand or a magic stone too?"

Kyley rose up from his position and looked at him like he was crazy.

"Excuse me?" he said, bewildered. Stan only quirked an eyebrow.

"What?"

" _Me_ , using a wand or a stone? I am not that low yet. Did you take me for..."

 _For a human_ , Stan bitterly completed in his mind. Kyley looked down in shame when he saw Stan's face become sour.

"Sorry. I was not thinking about what I was saying."

 _I thought he was done with this kind of bullshit_ , Stan thought. The dark-haired boy didn't say anything and purposefully let the silence get heavier.

"A—Anyway," Kyley said, embarrassed. "My tutor would not let me use tools either way. It is not socially acceptable for us to do magic with the help of objects like other, hm, species, do."

Stan huffed and crossed his arms. "Well, isn't that dumb? Do you mean that you're forced to go through maybe a lifetime of struggles with your magic, only because of _pride_?"

The elf shrugged, uncomfortable. "Maybe..." he mumbled.

His pitiful tone made Stan feel a little guilty for being harsh with him. He was still an elf after all, with all the deep-rooted thought patterns that came with it. And he did apologize. He sighed and his expression softened. "Well, do your best in the meantime. You're intelligent dude, I know you're going to make it." 

Kyley had a small smile, although still not looking at him—his shoulders all slumped and his hat uncharacteristically askew on his head.

"Thanks, Stan," he breathed out.

Seeing him distressed made Stan's heart wrench in an unexpected and cruel way. Without thinking he offered him his arms, and the redhead moved forward and closed the embrace, hugging Stan with a force of someone who needed this.

***

Stan was standing in front of a strange door. It was decorated with curious swirling patterns and countless sigils, talismans and charms were hanging from it, giving to the door a mysterious and powerful aura. Even without entering he could smell the strong scents of incenses and dried flowers wafting from the closed room.

Stan usually never went to witches's parlors or this kind of stuff. His friends did, asking for quick enchantments to help with an exam or buying charms to attract the attention of girls they crushed on; but Stan never felt the need to do these kinds of stuff, and always liked to keep his money safe where it was.

But this time it was different. Madam Testaburger and her family were renowned witches, and if someone could help him find a solution for Kyley's magic problems, they were the best option. He nervously weighed his purse in his pocket, hoping the allowance he had been saving would be enough, and with a clammy hand opened the door to the parlor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, finals are done! FINALLY. I don't know what I'll do with my summer, but I hope it will be productive lmao  
> I noticed there has been more traffic on my fic lately, and I wanted to thank you all for this. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story as much as I enjoy writing and drawing it (●⌒∇⌒●)❁*✲ﾟ*


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Were all Humans like Stan? No, it could not be the case: Stan was good-natured and honest. The war would have never happened if they were all like him. But not every one of them could be bad, right?"

_"_ _The war started exactly two hundred and eighty years ago, primarily because of a territorial dispute that got out of hand when the Humans decided to use the Mighty Stick of Truth on us..."_

He absentmindedly tapped his quill against the scribbled parchment, staring off into the distance instead of listening to his teacher's lecture. He already knew this lesson anyway: the Humans were the villains, and the Elves the kind-natured folk that got attacked out of nowhere. End of the story.

Not so long ago Kyle would have agreed to this explanation without questioning. After all, Humans were the ones who were selfish, violent, sneaky, ready to do anything for more power; in short, an inferior species. That is why, despite the recent peace, Elves still had a tough time admitting they had any part to play in this shameful story—it was... too much, for them.

Kyle still remembered what one of the elders rambled to him when he was little, just after the small human called Stanley had arrived at the castle:

_"...Ah, dear Kyle, nature's punishment cannot be avoided, and so the forces of nature made it so that the Humans's appearance would reflect their wretched ways. Over the centuries they became shorter than us so that we are always looking down upon them; Magic deserted their vile blood, leaving them utterly dull and weak to our attacks; and their movements were made slow and clumsy, every bit as ungraceful as their lifestyles. Have you seen the human child? Dreadfully small, unsightly, and his ears...By the Gods, his ears! Completely lacking in even the slightest amount of sharpness! Hideous, simply hideous. The King's decision to accept a human among us was one coming from a weak mindset; dear Kyle, please consider what is happening as a disgrace, as it should be."_

Back then he had simply nodded to the statement, too young to even consider an esteemed elder to be anything else than right. And he had lived all his short life with these ideas implanted in his head—them growing like vicious plants and taking root in every part of his brain.

Until he met Stan.

Kyle was used to fake people: the kind who smiled brightly at him, but whose eyes never smiled too; those who sought his attention, only to obtain money or favors from him. But Stan was one of the few (aside from his immediate family) who, almost since the moment they met, genuinely cared about him; watching out for him, teaching him many things, being there when he felt the most alone—all of this without asking for anything in return.

Stan, the only one he felt comfortable calling his friend.

He still remembered the first time he felt Stan's hand wrapped around his, one time he was sick.

Indeed, it radiated such ease, such _kindness_ , he could only bask in this warmth and forget all about his previous worries.

It was also at this moment he knew, Stan was not like anybody else.

Even when they argued, even when their core differences inevitably clashed, Kyle had grown to like everything he thought he could not tolerate before: the too-relaxed attitude, the bad language, the taunts. Even the round ears that unsettled him, he found them quite charming to look at now.

All this to say: everything he thought he knew, was currently challenged.

Were all Humans like Stan? No, it could not be the case. Stan was good-natured and honest. The war would have never happened if they were all like him. But not every one of them could be bad, right?

"Sir," called his teacher with an annoyed tone. "Am I boring you so much, you cannot be bear to listen to what I have to say?"

Kyle politely shook his head, to which the teacher only sighed before continuing on his lesson.

Kyle absentmindedly took a few notes to please his teacher, but utterly bored with the lecture, he could not help but have a small smile dance on his lips as he thought about all the new exciting things he had planned to do with Stan for their next meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small snippet in Kyle's point of view. Sorry if the chapter is a bit short, the next one will be more story-driven.  
> I'd love to get a beta to help me fix my English or help me with the story. If that interests someone, nominations are now open lol ꒰⌗´͈ ᵕ ॣ`͈⌗꒱৩
> 
> N.B: Thank you for those who left positive comments in the update. It was sweet of you, thanks♥

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe did you sense it while reading the chapter, but English is not my first language. I tried my best but if there are grammatical errors don't hesitate to tell me!  
> I hope you enjoyed the story so far, and constructive critiscisms are of course welcomed（*´▽｀*）
> 
> N.B: Wherever or whoever you are, I hope you are all okay at home. Be safe <3


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